


A Thousand Lives

by TatyanaIvanshov



Series: Versailles Missing Monchevy Scenes [1]
Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Homoeroticism, M/M, Making Up, Missing Scene, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Season/Series 01, Smut, This haunts me, my little gay heart hurts for these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25728517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TatyanaIvanshov/pseuds/TatyanaIvanshov
Summary: After Monsieur returned from war, the Chevalier was quick to recognize the change in his lover. After Philippe was triggered by the stench of gunpowder and screams of fireworks at the entertainment in his honor, he retired to his bed-chambers where he was found by none other than his Chevalier.
Relationships: Chevalier de Lorraine/Philippe d'Orléans | Monsieur (Versailles 2015)
Series: Versailles Missing Monchevy Scenes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873663
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33





	A Thousand Lives

**Author's Note:**

> So, I kept putting off posting this because I keep finding things I want to add and also because I want it to be perfect. 
> 
> After reading entirely too much homoerotic classic literature, my gay little heart produced little thingy, and there are some lines in this that haunt me. When they're sitting on the bed... oof. I'm FINE. I SWEAR I'M FINE.

Philippe padded into his bed chambers, his steps hesitant and his body weak as his defeated posture was hidden away by the darkness of night. There were few lit candles that still burned and the servants rushed to light up the rest but Philippe dismissed them with a simple hand gesture. He poured himself a glass of wine and drained it in a single go, hoping the intoxicating vintage would numb his senses but it barely did any good.

The screams of those brave enough to follow him through hell rang in his ears still, and in flashes of memories, splatters of blood and limbs were all he could see before his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to keep them open. He was drowning and it happened too quickly. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fist as he fell, kneeling upon the harsh, cold floor. The mere thought of having to go to sleep scared him. He dreaded every second he would be awake and every second he would have to sleep. Days were restless but nights even more so and after what felt like months of trying to block out voices, there was little rest he could get.

Just as the walls were closing in on him and his head descended underwater, a powerful arm wrapped around him, bringing him to the surface and carrying him to safety. He blinked his eyes open and gazed up to find the Chevalier’s face, concern and dread marked all over as he brought Philippe into his body. 

The Prince didn’t fight it. He tumbled into his embrace, unable to stop tears from rolling down his cheek and soaking the Chevalier’s shirt as he held him tighter than anyone had these past months. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he didn’t feel alone and solitary was a concept swiftly brushed from his mind along with his fears. 

“Philippe,” He whispered into his ear, a voice to be followed and the Prince looked up to find tears in his lover’s eyes as well. 

“Leave.” His words juxtaposed his pleading tone and the deadly grip he had on Lorraine, bringing him closer. “I do not wish for you to see me like this. Please, just leave.” The Prince tried to stifle cries but it was no use. 

“If you think I’d obey such a command, you do not know me at all.” The Chevalier pressed a kiss on Philippe’s damp forehead. 

“Go! Please, go!” He cried as if he was begging for him to stay instead, but Lorraine’s grip only grew tighter and protective. 

“No!” The Chevalier’s stern tone was enough to break him down and he fell limp, his shoulders shaking and his body overheated as he held on for dear life, as if this man was all that was keeping him afloat, a slab of wood as they floated just above the surface. 

His eyes rose and through his blurry vision, he saw Lorraine grimace. 

“I’m sorry,” Philippe choked up, sniffling as his hands clutched harder at Lorraine’s waistcoat. “Please, forgive me. I have wronged you, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He sobbed, and it only worsened when the Chevalier brought the Prince’s head to lay back on his chest and hushed him, allowing him to curl into a ball as the Chevalier rocked him back and forth. “I’m sorry.” He continuously repeated. 

“Hush, now, it’s gone, darling. You’re safe with me.” Lorraine whispered into his ear.

“I am?” Philippe curled up further into himself.

“Always. Nothing will hurt you now.” The Chevalier’s lips kept at minute kisses pressed all over Philippe’s forehead but were interrupted when he raised his head to gaze back up with red, swollen eyes and tears that kept on falling. 

“Yeah?” He blinked away tears and Lorraine allowed his thumbs to brush over his cheeks and wipe away the fallen droplets, smearing away the touch of rouge on the Prince’s cheekbones. 

“Yes.” He forced a sad smile, threading his fingers through his hair to calm the mess. “You’re safe with me. Whatever plagues you so, my dear, is gone.” But Philippe only frantically shook his head.

“I must be possessed. I am not myself, I feel it. I- I brought that beast into our bed… I’m…” He swallowed staring down at his own hands in a swirl of fear and anger at what he had become. “I’m sorry.” Philippe collapsed back into his arms, weeping.

“My love, it’s alright. I know. But I’m here now.” The Chevalier said, gripping at him tight as an overwhelming need to protect the little Prince came upon him. His heart burned at the pained weeps, the way his entire body convoluted in gut-wrenching ache hurt him just as much. Oh, if only he could take it for himself, to fully relieve Philippe of this- it’d be much simpler. But all he could do was hold him until it subsided, until he was no longer gasping for breath but rather allowing himself to be rocked into a daze of numbness. The Chevalier’s hands caressed the back of his neck where heat was trapped, his cool fingers quite delightful against his skin and Philippe rubbed against him like a wee kitten aching for affection. 

The Chevalier wordlessly scooped him into his arms and helped him stand, the Prince never leaving his embrace, even as he walked them over to the chaise by the fire. Lorraine sat and brought Philippe into his lap where he wrapped him into a blanket as the nearby flames crackled. Warmth spread across the Prince’s shivering body and he rested his head on the Chevalier’s shoulder, nuzzling his nose into the golden locks that smelled of peaches and everything right in this world. He was safe and for the first time in a while, he truly believed that. 

“What has your brother done to you?” Lorraine muttered, soothing his fingers upon Philippe’s locks as the other man hiccuped what was left of his cries.

“Twas not him.” The Prince managed to mumble, his voice coarse and trembling, so small it had the Chevalier holding him tighter. 

“You were speaking to him out in the gardens. When he returned alone, I went to find you but you were gone. I had to know you were not hurt.” His lips occupied themselves with tender pecks upon the Prince’s temple, down to his heated cheekbone. 

“Even after I…?” Philippe trailed off, glancing down in shame. 

“My affections for you prevail over such tedious arguments,” Lorraine whispered his own shame, afraid to admit his own feelings and what his heart truly held, and at that moment, those emotions were overflowing. He wanted to say it since for a split second, hopefully, it’d carry away his lover’s pain but such words were too unfathomable coming from his own lips and he was quick to dismiss the thought, instead allowing himself to simply feel them, letting them rush through him, between them. “There’s nothing you can do to keep me from making sure you’re alright.” 

“Nothing?” 

“My darling, you could have me executed and my last wish would still be that you are looked after.” He said, earring a gasp and a smack on the arm from Philippe who could not believe his ears.

“Don’t speak like that. You know I would never-” 

“I know.” Lorraine chuckled, pecking his forehead before resting his own against it. “I know.” He smiled and Philippe could not help the corners of his lips that twitched up. He sighed as it fell and the Chevalier admired his lover, his plush skin almost iridescent by the fire, his eyes merely transparent and his lips lush and tempting. 

He reached forward and Philippe leaned into him, accepting the gentle brush of their lips against one another in a kiss that held such purity and tenderness, he thought his heart would burst from its frantic drumming against his ribcage. The Chevalier’s hand found his Prince’s cheek and deepened the kiss, this passions and desires pouring into it, so powerful and demanding, he felt his soul was being sucked from his body through his mouth. 

When they peeled open, his eyes held desire but it was clouded by confusion and fear, unaware of his own feelings that had gone untamed for so long now. 

“Talk to me.” The Chevalier softly spoke as if approaching a rabbit that may flee at any moment, with caution, maintaining eye contact that would block the world out. “What’s happened to you, darling?” Philippe thought, just as unsure and confused as his lover but he had to make him understand- or at least try. He wanted him of all people to know as he was the most important one of them all. This man, he was his life, his world, he had the right to know and Philippe needed nothing more than to speak.

“I don’t know.” He shook his head, attempting to keep tears from his voice but his throat burned as he felt it all rush back. “I just… I get no rest at night. And the smallest things, they… bring back memories. I’m the same person I left and yet there’s this air around me- stifling, and it won’t let me breathe. I’m scared, Philippe. I’m always scared.” Monsieur felt tears resurface as his eyes stung.

“You saw things…” 

“Horrific things. And did things-” He sniffled. “Did worse things. I thought I was strong enough to lead an army, I truly did but I’ve never let myself face the reality.” 

“That is?” The Chevalier dreaded asking but he had to. The only way Philippe could begin healing was by talking about it. Everything in the past, from the death of his mother to his greatest fears, the only way he ever began getting over anything was speaking to Lorraine about it because somehow, perhaps through wine, he guessed, the Chevalier brought it all out of him, things he didn’t know himself either. 

“That I’m broken because of it.” His face crumpled in pain and he sobbed, his head dropping back to Lorraine’s chest as he held and rocked his lover. “I am weak. I am damaged and I never allowed myself t-to admit that, but- but it’s the truth.” 

“Philippe!” The Chevalier’s eyes found his. “You are not weak! Never say that about yourself. And you are not broken either. You have been damaged by your bravery and strength but that does not make you weak.” He felt he was holding a child by the way Philippe gazed up at him- as if Lorraine was the answer to everything, his hope and joy, and the only one that could save him. 

“How can you say that?” 

“How can I not?” He brushed hair from the Prince’s face to admire the pale skin of his lover. “You are the strongest man I know. Your entire life, my dear, has been struggle and you have still managed to bloom into a beautiful flower that takes my breath away every time with your beauty and courage.”

“A mignonette?” Philippe smiled through the tears as he watched the Chevalier chuckle.

“Yes, a mignonette.” He nodded, reaching his thumb to wipe tears once more. 

“I could’ve never done it without you, you know?” Philippe’s gentle touch found his face, a rare touch but one the Chevalier had learned to cherish and melt into. When he went to pull it away, Lorraine held onto his wrist, his way of begging for just a little longer and the Prince indulged him, caressed his face, and watched his lover melt in his hands. “Thank you.” He whispered and watched Lorraine’s eyes as they fell shut. 

“It was all you, my dear.” 

“No. The boy you met all those years ago would’ve never lead the King’s armies.” Philippe insisted

“I would do it all again if I could.” His voice was as tender as his smile and Philippe’s heart jolted. “You’re a star, mignonette. But you shine bright enough to light all of France.” 

“You say such things.” The Prince smiled and curled back into his lover’s chest. 

There were so many things the Chevalier wished to say, so many things he did not even dare think of, but as he looked down at the man he held in his arms, he knew those feelings were the one thing he would always be sure of in himself. He would protect his lover with his life, for all else, even existence itself cowered before his Prince, even the mere idea of living became trivial at the thought of Philippe taken from him. All he wanted to do was speak his mind, pour his soul out to him but instead, at the interference of fear, he settled for showing him, over and over until Philippe knew of his affections and beyond. 

“You would forgive me so easily?” Monsieur mumbled out of nowhere as they sat and watched the light and dance of flames before them.

“You were not yourself. Besides, the last thing I need is such a thing coming between us after having burned for you for so long,” He said, a rare moment of vulnerability from Lorraine but one Philippe would gladly take.

“As have I.” Philippe rested his head against the Chevalier’s, enjoying the intimacy of their intermingled bodies. “During the day I’d… I’d keep myself busy. Try not to think about it. But at night… at night I’d dismiss everyone and it was just me. Alone with my thoughts. And it got ugly. I’d think of you. I craved your touch, or even just your support. You always say the right things… you always know how to make me feel better. I missed it so much.” Lorraine had lowered his head and was placing firm kisses down the length of his lover’s shoulder, soothing Philippe just as he needed.

“So, you’re going to lie to me and say you never bedded another?” Lorraine’s smug smirk made Philippe chuckle. 

“I still wanted you. They were all your built, your height. But even when I closed my eyes, they didn’t smell like you. They weren’t you and you were all I wanted.” Their eyes danced together as they simmered in vulnerability. 

“I know. I had one man take a bath in your bath oils before I touched him.” The Chevalier mumbled, almost ashamed and unsure of himself but it quickly loosened when Philippe giggled, gazing at him with so much utter adoration, his heart could not even hold it.

“Glad you had that luxury. Mine all smelled like gunpowder and dirt.” They laughed. “But I did bring your ribbons to wear in case… something happened. I had to have a piece of you at least.” 

“Mignonette…” The Chevalier whispered, a lump forming in his throat as his chest filled with love.

“Next time I should bring your parfum with me.” Philippe smiled, expecting the same back but was met with sadness, a somber expression that weighted down his lover’s features in perhaps disappointment. 

“Next time?” He mumbled. Philippe shrugged, lowering his head. “You would go again?” 

“Perhaps. If the opportunity presented itself.” The Prince averted his eyes but Lorraine placed a kiss on his cheek, capturing gaze once more. 

“If that is what you wish.” He attempted to be okay with it, to not complain but it proved difficult to hide his disappointment from his voice. How could Philippe wish for something like this after being hurt so badly? Was he truly this hungry for war? The Chevalier prided himself in knowing Philippe better than Philippe knew himself, better than any other knew Philippe for that matter, but this thirst for war, he never quite grasped, especially not for a second time. 

“I would wear your ribbons again. And your shirt underneath. And have a vial of your scent to think of you, in my bed every night.” He smiled to himself. 

“Or, instead, I take you to bed now and we do not leave it for the rest of our days?” The Chevalier made Philippe chuckle. 

“Not even for food?” 

“Of course not. We shall wither away until we are but skin and bones rather than leave each other.” His fingers twirled in Philippe’s hair.

“Skin and bones…” He chuckled. “You will love me even when I am that ugly?” He admired the Chevalier’s laugh that stiffened when he grasped his wording. Love. Of course. Until their demise and longer still but he did not carry the strength to speak of it. 

“Forgive me, I’m finding it quite hard to imagine you as ugly.” He enjoyed the sight of his resplendent lover almost bashful under his compliments and affections. 

“When I’m old,” Philippe suggested. 

“Still.” 

“When my body is decaying underground?” He asked.

“When your body is one with the ground, mine will be as well.” Their lips hovered so near, the sight of them so tempting that the Chevalier’s breath caught in his throat and could feel Philippe’s racing heartbeat drum against his chest. 

“Ma moitié.” Their lips came together and Philippe melted into his lover’s kind touch. He held him as if he were a breakable, porcelain doll, with care and tenderness that carried the Prince away to a safe haven and it was divinity incarnate. 

At last, they were together in peace and nothing would separate them now. All was well and after months of looking over his shoulder, aching and worrying, Philippe finally felt safe and cared for, knowing well the Chevalier was not only his lover but his existence itself and he’d go through hell and back to make sure nothing would ever hurt him.

“Would you take me to bed?” Philippe whispered, his voice timid as if he feared rejection despite knowing the Chevalier would never refuse him- Lorraine’s smile proof enough. He placed a last peck on Philippe’s lips before they shuffled to untangle from each other’s bodies, though the blonde’s grip did not leave his lover’s hips, tight and firm, grounding Philippe who had gone silent. 

Though Lorraine tried not to worry and instead took to unbuttoning his own waistcoat once the Prince was sat on the bed. He looked so small, curled into himself with slumped shoulders and tear-stained cheeks and the Chevalier knew he had to do something. Letting him sleep like this was not an option. 

Once his waistcoat was tossed away, he worked on Philippe’s, slumping it next to his own on a nearby chair. He peeled off his shirt and immediately felt the Prince’s burning gaze piercing over his naked upper body. Though, he did not acknowledge it, instead, taking to kicking off his shoes and removing his stockings before kneeling down to pull off Philippe’s whose eyes would not leave the Chevalier. With a swift movement, he peeled off his stockings and raised the Prince’s delicate leg to place a kiss right above his ankle, and then the other. 

Philippe’s breath hitches, fingers tightening on the bedsheets as he felt his heartbeat quicken at the Chevalier’s lips that trailed kisses down to the bridge of his foot, attentive and kind while he lingered. The Prince’s skin was set afire by such a minuscule gesture despite the fact that the Chevalier had quite possibly laid a kiss on every patch of his skin before and he guessed that the cause for such excitement was their prolonged time apart. Yet still, this was different. There was nothing seductive about his kisses, nothing meant to arouse passion in the Prince. Instead, they were rather pure, chaste even with touches of tenderness accompanying him, almost as if this was more for Lorraine himself than Philippe. 

Their eyes met and the Chevalier’s smile was a sight. Philippe was used to every one of his expressions, and most of the time, they were smug, his smiles more smirks than grins. He rarely beamed without a devil in his eyes, giving no one else the honor of such a genuine smile like he gave his lover. It was special and the Prince cherished every second of it, his head tipping to the side in admiration. 

Everything was shed and neither was bound to anything other than each other, all duty falling away, titles and ranks becoming mere dust and as the Chevalier crawled forward to take his lips, they became equals in every sense of the word. 

Lorraine’s hands found the edge of Philippe’s shirt and he helped him out of it until they were both in breeches and nothing else. The Prince crawled back towards the pillows as his lover followed him on his hands and knees to settle between his legs and when their lips met once more along with their bare chests, it was ecstasy. They melted into each other, Philippe’s arms encircling his neck and his hands in the blonde locks to pull him closer, in need of more. 

It had been so long since he’d had this and it was now his in all its glory, he almost could not believe it. His nails dug in his lover’s scalp when he pulled away, resting their foreheads together as Philippe’s eyes darted to his swollen, wet, reddened lips.

“Please,” Philippe whimpered and the Chevalier nodded with shut lids. Every game of theirs had faltered, Lorraine’s quick wit and Philippe’s merely unreadable nature torn away to reveal the two men they were at their core, bare for each other. It was selfless love freely given, unhindered by politics or religion and they both reveled in it. It was when both of them were more themselves than they’d ever been. Together, they found peace and a slice of the divine. 

The Chevalier’s fingers took their time undoing Philippe’s breeches, slipping them down his shapely legs without a word as his eyes raked over the revealed skin before going to undo and slip off his own. The Prince was beginning to worry at the silence, his lack of vigor or playfulness not going unnoticed but he allowed his lover to tend to him. As selfish as it may sound, Philippe knew how the Chevalier adored caring for him. He didn’t quite understand it but it fit perfectly with his own need of being swooped into oblivion, his need to submit to another he would trust his life with and it is why they worked so well. The Chevalier strived to bring comfort to one in desperate need of it and it fit. But at the rise and fall of his chest, at the lack of eye contact, the Prince recognized what his Chevalier needed. 

“Philippe,” Monsieur whispered, gripping at his wrist to stop him from going further. But the Chevalier attempted to continue, an action not well received by Philippe who sat up and waited for him to respond. Nothing. He kept his eyes down and the movement at his throat was noticed. “Ma moitié.” He said again. 

Lorraine sighed and squeezed his eyes shut and Philippe wasted no time cupping his face in his hands with a motherly touch that the Chevalier submitted into without a fight. He placed gentle pecks upon his unflinching lips, at his upper lip, at his bottom lip, at each corner before traveling them to his forehead. 

“I thought I would lose you.” The Chevalier did not recognize his own voice, weak and trembling as he held back tears, shattering Philippe’s heart who hadn’t even considered the hardships the Chevalier had had to endure during his lover’s absence. 

“I would always return to you,” Philippe muttered, resting their foreheads together. 

“You couldn’t have known,” Lorraine spoke in despair as if he truly was mourning a lover. The Prince shook his head as his thumb soothed over his cheekbone, the unblemished skin bringing him comfort. 

“No, but I knew I’d do everything in my power to find my way back. If I’d have died, I’d rest knowing I did all I could.” His legs instinctively tightened around the Chevalier’s waist, over his thighs as Lorraine held him to himself. “Besides, you would’ve been taken care of. Henriette would dare challenge my will and Louis-” 

“Philippe, no. Not money. You. I was afraid of losing you.” He insisted, shaking his head in desperation. “I am well aware of the rumors but believe it or not, you’d be surprised how little that crossed my mind.”

“I know.” Philippe nodded, tears springing to his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night. “I know.” He repeated, wrapping his arms around the Chevalier to merge their bodies together. They sat entangled, in an embrace, the comfort of it being too significant for either of them to have the heart to let go. 

Candlelight burned low and silence filled the room, only the occasional cracks of the fire audible. It was well into the night and the entire palace had retired, leaving them the only ones awake and alone. 

“Lovers like us have always gotten the short end of the stick. I am afraid your brother's historians will not be the least bit gentle.” He chuckled dryly. 

“Who is?” Philippe simply replied, his lips finding the Chevalier’s head to place a kiss upon. “They are never kind to us, my love.” He thought for a moment, his soft breaths brushing over Lorraine’s skin in kind caresses. “When all is said and done and we’re rotting in soil, they will speak of our love as if they knew everything about it.” 

“That’s a depressing thought.” Lorraine chuckled. 

“It’s tragic, really. To know we never stood a chance, non?” 

“To think they will never stop, even when we are long gone. It is.” The thoughts triggered a burn in his heart that was pressed up against his lover’s chest, meeting the ache of Philippe’s own heart.

“But I’d find you again. In a thousand lives if that’s what it’d take.” 

“You read too much poetry.” Lorraine huffed out a laugh, resting his head comfortably on the Prince’s shoulder, facing his pale neck as Philippe’s fingers combed through his hair.

“I mean it.” He did not relent. “If you came to me in another life, in another version of reality, I would recognize you. Just as I did in this one, but just one isn't enough. I would know your presence if nothing else. No matter where we’d end up, I’d find you and my heart recognize you before my eyes understood a thing, and I’d fall for you again before I could stop it. And we’d live out the rest of our days together. We were never strangers, you and I, not even for a moment.” The Chevalier adored when Philippe went off so, speaking words with so much heart, poets themselves would envy. He shut his eyes and took in the familiar scent of lavender, intoxicated, and willing. 

“What if… what if in a next life we do not have the protection of our rank?” He voiced as Philippe caressed down his neck and shoulder, yearning arms holding him close. 

“Perhaps it’ll be in another world. In a different time.” 

“A better time.” The Chevalier ran a hand down his lover’s back as his nose aimlessly traced at his neck.

“I should very much like to visit such a place.” Philippe chuckled, sadness weighing down his smile. 

“You could wear whatever you desired and no one would say a thing,” Lorraine said, placing a kiss at the brunette’s elongated neck and his shoulder before he lay upon it again. His hand traveled to Philippe’s other shoulder where the Prince wrapped a hand around it and traced a finger upon each knuckle. 

“And our faith would not be based on hatred.”

“Where your brother’s glare would not follow us everywhere.” 

Philippe sighed, squeezing his lover’s hand with eyes that fell shut.

“And I could love you freely, as I wish.” His fingertip traced a line across the base of the Chevalier’s ring finger, his heart aching at its emptiness, the void space that felt cold to the touch, as if there lay the ghost of what could have been if they weren’t surrounded by the cruelty of those that could not comprehend this was even love in the first place when in fact, this was far greater. 

What could have been… all they could have. All that was being held from them.

Lorraine’s heart raced, recognizing what ran through Philippe’s mind and he wished the Prince could will those thoughts into reality more than anything but the melancholic nature of his touch was too painful for either of them to gladly endure. It triggered a surge of pain deep inside him he didn’t quite understand but he knew it was emptiness, a missing piece that would forever remain missing. 

He entangled their fingers together and pulled him closer by his other arm that cuffed around his waist, their bodies pressed together wonderfully.

“‘Till death do us part.” The Chevalier’s whisper was softer than even the sound of burning candle flame, spoken for Philippe’s ears only, for him to revel in that vow of unity and put his heart at ease. 

The Prince smiled, his eyes welling with tears as emotion overflooded him, leaving no option but to embrace the blonde as tight as he could until their bodies were trembling and Philippe’s chin was digging into his shoulder blade in a hug that spoke a thousand words better than a pair of lips ever could.

“‘Till death do us part,” Philippe repeated after him, swallowing back a lump that grew in his throat. His emotions were far greater than he could fathom and squeezing him tighter was the only outlet for them. The Chevalier sniffled and Philippe’s heart leaped, pulling back to find eyes glistening just as his own were. 

“Oh, my love.” Monsieur smiled, going to wipe away tears but his attempts went pushed aside when the Chevalier reached for an eager kiss that came as a surprise but he didn’t fight it. Instead, he allowed it to wither them away into dust, until they were nothing but entities coiled as one with their tears mixing and desires swelling. 

Passion grew hungry, almost urgent as if the fragility of their relationship loomed over, scaring the two into a need to take in all that was given before it was snatched away by circumstance. It fueled their bodies, their state of nakedness catching up to them as they bucked against each other. 

Philippe gasped when between them, contact was firm and just what he needed, pushing against him while Lorraine’s masterful lips continued pressing kisses down his cheek, at his jaw and trailed down his pale throat, but unlike the usual lustful kisses meant to please, these were meant to soothe, just another touch into which he poured all his love into. 

It wasn’t long before such pressure was growing insufficient and Philippe’s body was craving more, carnal desires that were all too familiar to him but it’d been so long, he’d forgotten how to ask of it, how to go about completing such a task. The Chevalier’s powerful hands on his behind, lifting him up so he’d get on his knees, and straddle him, were grips he welcomed and he submitted control to his lover who held him near and kissed up to him with adoration and urgency that molded them together. 

“I- I-” Philippe stuttered in an attempt to instruct but the Chevalier shook his head. 

“Shh… I know what you need.” Lorraine’s heartbeat again at Philippe’s smile, as warm as sun rays themselves and he basked under its benevolence. “Drawer.” He instructed and Philippe, not leaving the position of his legs around Lorraine’s lap but rather sprawling out his upper body to reach for the drawer where he pulled out the vial of oil they kept beside their bed, handed it to the Chevalier to meet him back with a kiss.

Philippe’s arms once more encircled his neck as he raised his hips, giving his lover access as he held onto him like his rock, bracing his body for what was to come. He heard the removal of the stopper and felt Lorraine’s arms flex and move underneath him until he felt something hovering near his body. The Chevalier placed a kiss on his neck and Philippe was quick to recognize what it meant.

Relax. It’s time. 

He spread his thighs wider as his grip tightened on his Chevalier’s shoulders, nails digging into his back when he felt a finger encircle before, with great caution, entering him. Philippe tried to stifle a cry but as the oiled finger found its way deeper and deeper with patient thrusts and forgiving rocks, it became difficult and he let out a whimper. When the Chevalier retreated and pushed back in, the Prince had to bite Lorraine’s shoulder to hold back sounds and endure such intense pleasure that was still only near the sweetest spot. 

He spread wider when another finger joined the first, maintaining a slow pace meant to spread and open up before pleasing but it had been quite a while since he’d done such a thing. He hadn’t let another touch him like this and it was like rediscovering his body from the beginning.

Though the Chevalier remembered everything and as he continued with painfully slow thrusts, he was further reminded of every minuscule detail, and every sound he made at each wriggle of his fingers, as well as every jolt of his body at every spot he loved. He had memorized every bit of his lover’s being, everything that drove him to the edge and it was blissful to make him feel so again.

Philippe rocked his hips into the touch, unable to restrain and he didn’t wait to. All he drove for was contact between his own legs and when he rubbed forward, meeting with the Chevalier’s belly, it had him moaning for more, in desperate need of attention.

But much to his disappointment, the Chevalier’s fingers disappeared, leaving him empty and gaping while he repositioned his lover. Philippe’s heart raced and anticipation had him chewing his inner cheek when Lorraine’s tip traced down his entrance. A powerful grip was almost forceful at his hips, Lorraine’s fingers digging into the pale flesh as he led his lover down onto himself. Simultaneously, they threw their heads backs with resonating moans as wild as the wind, the Chevalier having to get used to the sudden tightness around him. 

He cursed under his breath as Philippe stretched out around him, welcoming his body into his own until it was swallowing it deeper and deeper, down to the hilt and they merged into one.

“You feel so good,” The Prince moaned with a hand fisting into Lorraine’s golden hair. The Chevalier was cautious and tender with the way he lowered Philippe onto himself but he was losing patience, in need of more vigor to their thrusts. “Oh, God.” He yelped when the Chevalier hit the spot he’d been waiting for, sending his entire body into a spasm of pleasure. “Yes, yes! Please.” 

The Chevalier obliged. He raised his own hips to meet Philippe’s thrusts in the middle, a pace welcomed by the Prince that became a moaning mess, holding onto his lover as he was taken and properly had. It was invigorating, and he was reminded of all the reasons so many nights before, neither were able to sleep because of their hungry need for such coupling. 

It was when they most found themselves- when they were most in tune with each other to where his heartfelt it would explode with affection. Philippe adored it. For once, he didn’t have to be anyone other than the Chevalier’s lover, he didn’t need to have been put on this earth for any other reason than to be touched and loved by Lorraine, and this was his sole purpose of existing. It was then that he was most free, when he found who he was underneath the layer of titles and duties that drowned him. Now, he had acquired one more- soldier, and he bore such a title nobly but it was one more to weigh him down. With the Chevalier, he was no longer a war hero, the weight that such words brought being lifted from his shoulders and he was suddenly only Philippe, body and soul and the Chevalier loved him for that, simple and unhindered. He was home. 

This was supposed to be sin, the sprout of all evil, the lure of the devil himself but how was it that this was the purest thing in his life? How was it that his centrality, the deepest form of who he was, came out only when the Chevalier loved him- only then was he human in the barest sense of the word, only then could he fly and feel and rejoice in a world where from birth, his wings were clipped. 

The Chevalier’s eyes filled with tears as he caressed Philippe’s hair out of the way, to find the flushed beauty underneath. Adoration was evident in his hooded eyes and a smile found his parted lips, continuously rocking back and forth, knowing exactly where to repeatedly hit to have Philippe sing those sweet sounds he so deeply carved. He chased his release, his thrusts turning sharp and quick to where Philippe became putty in his hands and he was no longer able to maintain the same pace. The Chevalier scooped him closer and held him in place as he pounded up, showing no mercy, taking matters into his own hands as Philippe felt his energy drain away and his release approaching far too quickly. Lorraine had waited too long for this, in the midst of that sea of men, this was all he searched for and it was finally his. With a growled, he sped up, earning a gasp from the Prince.

He screamed, nails digging into his lover’s skin, sweat coating both of them as they took each other and all they were until they were on the edge, each thrust and kiss becoming sloppy and toes curling when they met their end. 

The Chevalier’s teeth bit at Philippe’s shoulder as the Prince threw his head back when pleasure overtook his writhing body. Toes curled and he was ridden through to oblivion, until their chests were slick with spent and Philippe had nothing more left in him and he collapsed limp in his lover’s arms, thighs giving out along with the rest of him.

They held onto each other tight, in an embrace so euphoric, neither wanted to leave it. They caught their breaths, coming down from a high that had sent their bodies to a realm where it was only the two of them in the world. But now, back to reality, Philippe attempted to move, earning a groan from the Chevalier who held him in place, unwilling to let go just yet. The Prince chuckled and laid his head on his lover’s shoulder again. 

“Leg… numb.” He rasped and the Chevalier huffed out a laugh and released his grip for Philippe to readjust with Lorraine still filling him.

“Careful,” He hissed when the Prince tightened around his hypersensitivity. The Chevalier held onto his hips and raised him, pulling out with a groan and attempting to be as cautious with their battered spots as possible. With Philippe’s legs still cuffed around his waist as he sat on Lorraine’s lap, the blonde held him tighter and crawled towards the pillows, laying his Prince down and adjusting his hair. Philippe smiled, admiring his beloved and everything he was. 

Though perhaps not flawless, in Philippe’s eyes, the Chevalier was a perfect man, the embodiment of all things good and divine on this earth, despite his reputation and what others may have said. He was perfect to him and with such thoughts running through his mind, he smiled. Lorraine caught it and mimicked the same beam, causing Philippe’s heart to jolt. They cleaned each other up in silence, enjoying the aftermath of such intensity until there was nothing left to do but crawl under the covers. 

They lay in silence, Philippe staring at the ceiling and the Chevalier at his side, gazing at him. For the first time since the Chevalier found him weeping on the floor, there was no physical contact between them and though neither quite liked it, just each other’s presence was enough. 

“What are you thinking about?” Lorraine unceremoniously asked as he lay on his stomach with his arms underneath the pillow. Philippe turned to him with a smile that anyone that didn’t know him would think nonexistent. 

“I do not believe I’ve thanked you.” He rolled so he was also on his stomach and draped an arm over the Chevalier’s bare back, half on him as their faces lay mere inches apart. Their lips were so near, both red and swollen but they did not touch. 

“There’s nothing to thank me for, darling. I did what I had to do.” He smiled when Philippe brushed away curls from his face before trailing his fingertips down his back where he grazed and caressed as it was one of the Chevalier’s weakest spots. 

“You did far more than anyone cared to. Nothing new on that front.” Philippe’s smile was so kind, the Chevalier felt every ounce of his own affections reflected back at him through those eyes. “Thank you.” He whispered. 

“Are you feeling any better?” The Chevalier asked, his worries settling when Philippe nodded. “Did you get any sleep since you’ve been back?” Philippe shook his head and Lorraine rolled over to lay on his back and spread his arms for his lover to crawl closer and wrap into their warmth, mighty around him. “Get some rest.” He placed a kiss on the Prince’s forehead.

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” Philippe’s eyes were pleading, as if he needed that confirmation as badly as he needed the Chevalier’s affections.

“Of course.” Lorraine’s arms gripped him protectively and held his lover to his chest as Philippe’s eyes began to droop, safe in the embrace of the one who loved him most.

The Prince found his lover’s hand in the darkness and intertwined theirs together. His mind wandered and he went to trace over his fingers again, too empty for his liking. He wanted nothing more than to bestow upon him a gift that would fill it, that would bond them together for the rest of eternity but the vows they spoke to each other in moments such as these would have to be enough. Sometimes they were. Other times, times like this, it had him aching at such thoughts again. If only life wasn’t so cruel, if only it wasn’t their mere ranks protecting them. If only Philippe could love his golden-haired angel as he wished. 

At times, he felt almost inadequate at the knowledge he could never give Lorraine a proper family recognized by the Church and the state but then his lover would smile or kiss him and he would be reminded that this was all he would ever need, all he could ever ask for. He counted himself lucky that he was able to even have him without fearing death, he hated the hurt that came with wanting more but somewhere deep down, he wanted nothing more in life than to fill that empty space on the Chevalier’s finger. 

But for now, he placed a kiss on it, lingering before curling into him further and forgetting all else. His brother could hurt him, strip him of his titles, make him scream and cry and ache but as long as he had the Chevalier at the end of the day to retire to bed with, he knew all would be well and their love would carry with them all burdens one could carry.

It wasn’t long before the night swallowed him up and then the Chevalier with him, falling into a deep slumber that held so much of the peace and serenity he had lacked for months. At last, he was in his lover’s arms, safe from those who wish him ill, safe from the cruelty of the outside world and there, he found himself. 

He found his joy.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay now that you're crying and turned on at the same time (I don't know, it happens), tell me what lines are your favorites :)


End file.
